Where Darkness Learned Breath by Rylor Dusk 65

65 Chapter 65: Building Trust 

Aria’s POV Next Morning 

I woke to the sound of laughter. 

Not just any laughter–Noah’s delighted giggles mixed with a deeper, masculine chuckle that made my chest ache. 

I grabbed my robe and padded downstairs barefoot, following the sound to the kitchen. The scene that greeted me stopped the in the doorway. 

Damien stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with surprising competence. He wore jeans and a t–shirt. Noah sat on the counter beside him, his feet swinging, chocolate chips smeared across his face. 

“And then the pancake flew!” Noah threw his hands up dramatically. “Right to the ceiling!” 

“It did not fly to the ceiling.” Damien flipped another pancake onto a plate. “It maybe went up a foot.” 

“It flew!” Noah insisted. “And then it landed on your head!” 

Damien ruffled Noah’s hair, sending flour dust everywhere. “You’re a terrible witness. Very unreliable.” 

“What’s unree–liable?” 

“It means you make things up.” 

“I don’t make things up!” Noah gasped, offended. “The pancake really flew!” 

“Sure it did, buddy.” Damien slid the pancake onto Noah’s plate. “Here, eat your flying pancake before it escapes again.” 

Noah giggled and grabbed his fork. Then he spotted me in the doorway. 

“Mama!” He waved his fork enthusiastically. “Daddy made breakfast! And at flew to the ceiling!” 

pancake 

“I see that.” I moved into the kitchen, hyper–aware of Damien’s eyes tracking my movement. “That’s quite an impressive pancake. 

“It barely left the pan,” Damien said, his lips twitching. “Our son has a very active. imagination.” 

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“I wonder where he gets that from.” I poured myself coffee from the pot Damien had already made. “You’re up early.” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He returned to the stove, starting another pancake. “Figured I’d make myself useful. 

What he didn’t say what hung unspoken between us–was that tonight we’d be facing Marcus. That this might be our last normal morning together. 

The thought made my stomach twist. 

“Want some?” Damien gestured to the pancake batter. “I can make them however you. 

like.” 

“Just plain is fine.” 

“No chocolate chips?” Noah looked scandalized. “Mama, you have to have chocolate chips!” 

“Listen to your son.” Damien was already adding chips to the batter. “He knows what’s important in life.” 

I sat at the island, watching them work together. Noah chattered nonstop about his dreams, about the games he wanted to play today, about how Mr. Hoppy needed a friend rabbit to keep him company. 

And Damien listened. Really listened, responding to every ramble with genuine 

interest and attention. 

This was what I’d dreamed of years ago. A family breakfast, casual and warm. My husband making pancakes while our son talked his ear off. Simple domestic happiness. 

“Here.” Damien slid a plate in front of me. The pancake was perfectly golden, studded with chocolate chips, with a smiley face made of whipped cream. “One order of happiness, as requested by the expert. 

“I didn’t request” 

“Mr. Hoppy requested it.” Noah held up his stuffed rabbit. “He said Mama needs to smile more.” 

My throat tightened. “Did he now?” 

“Uh huh.” Noah made the rabbit nod. “He says you’re pretty when you smile.” 

“Mr. Hoppy is very wise.” Damien caught my eye, his expression soft. 

I looked away, focusing on my pancake. “Thank you. Both of you.” 

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We ate in companionable silence, broken only by Noah’s occasional observations about syrup viscosity and whether rabbits could eat pancakes. 

It felt normal. Safe. Like we were actually a family instead of two broken people trying to protect their son from a madman. 

“What are we doing today?” Noah asked, licking syrup off his fingers. 

Damien and I exchanged glances. We couldn tell him about tonight, couldn’t let him know the danger we were walking into. 

“How about the park?” I suggested. “We could feed the ducks.” 

“And the playground!” Noah bounced in his seat. “Can Daddy come too?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Damien started clearing plates. “But we need to stick together, okay buddy? No running off.” 

“Because of the bad man?” Noah’s voice got small. 

Damien froze. “What bad man?” 

“The shadow man.” Noah clutched Mr. Hoppy tighter. “The one who took me. He’s still out there, isn’t he?” 

I wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him everything was fine, that he was safe, that monsters only existed in stories. 

But I’d learned the hard way that children could sense lies. And Noah deserved honesty, as much as he could handle. 

“Yes,” I said gently. “The bad man is still out there. But Daddy and I are going to make sure he can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“How?” 

Damien knelt in front of Noah’s chair, his hands on our son’s small shoulders. “We’re going to stop him. Together. And then you’ll be safe, I promise.” 

“What if he takes me again?” Noah’s eyes filled with tears. “What if he takes you? Or Mama?” 

“He won’t.” Damien’s voice was fierce. “I won’t let him. Nobody is taking anyone away. We’re a family, and families protect each other.” 

“Like superheroes?” Noah sniffled. 

“Exactly like superheroes.” Damien wiped away a tear with his thumb. “Except our superpower is loving you so much that nothing can stop us from keeping you safe.” 

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Noah considered this, then nodded solemnly “Okay. But I want to be a superhero too.” 

“You already are.” I moved to kneel beside Damien, forming a protective circle around our son. “You’re the bravest little boy I know. You went through something scary and you’re still here, still smiling. That’s real courage.” 

“And you have the most important job,” Damien added. “You have to let us take care of you. Can you do that?” 

“I guess.” Noah hugged Mr. Hoppy. “But I don’t like being scared.” 

“Nobody does.” I pulled him into my arms, breathing in his little–boy scent of syrup and shampoo. “But being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means being scared and doing it anyway.” 

when you cam 

“Like you, Mama?” Noah pulled back to look at me. back here even though Daddy was mean to you?” 

Out of the mouths of babes. 

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Exactly like that.” 

Damien’s hand found mine, his fingers lacing through. A silent apology, a promise, a 

plea. 

For a moment, we knelt there together–a broken family trying to piece itself back together. 

Two Hours Later The Park 

– 

The park was crowded with weekend families Children shrieked on playground equipment while parents chatted on benches Dogs chased frisbees. Couples walked hand–in–hand around the lake. 

Noah ran ahead to the duck pond, Mr. Hoppy tucked under his arm and a bag of breadcrumbs in his hand. Security guards followed at a discreet distance, trying to blend in with the other park–goers. 

“He seems okay,” I observed, watching Noah laugh as ducks swarmed his thrown bread. “Considering everything.” 

“Kids are resilient.” Damien walked beside me his hand hovering near my lower back but not quite touching. “More resilient than adults sometimes.” 

“Or maybe he’s just good at hiding his feelings I thought about the nightmares, the way Noah sometimes froze when doors opened unexpectedly. “Like someone else I 

know.” 

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“I don’t hide my feelings anymore.” Damien’s voice was quiet. “Not from you.” 

“Since when?” 

“Since I realized hiding them cost me everything that mattered.” 

We reached the pond. Noah was completely absorbed in the ducks, narrating a complex story about duck families and underwater kingdoms. 

“Look, Mama!” He pointed at a particularly fat mallard. “That one’s the king! He’s got a 

crown!” 

“I don’t see a crown, sweetheart.” 

“It’s invisible.” Noah said it like I was being dense. “Only duck princesses can see it.” 

“My mistake.” I smiled, my heart swelling with love for this imaginative, resilient little boy. 

Damien moved closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “He has your creativity. Your way of seeing magic in ordinary things.” 

“He has your eyes and your stubborn determination.” 

“God help us all.” But Damien was smiling. “A child with my stubbornness and your brilliance, we are going to have our hands full 

“We?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. 

“We” He turned to face me fully. “Aria, I know you haven’t forgiven me. I know you might never forgive me. But can we at least acknowledge that we’re doing this together? Raising Noah, protecting him, being his parents?” 

“We’ve been doing that.” 

“At arm’s length. With careful boundaries and emotional walls.” His eyes searched mine. “But after tonight, if we survive” 

“When we survive,” I corrected firmly, 

“When we survive,” he amended, “can we try? Really try to be a family? Not for my sake, but at least for him.” 

He gestured to Noah, who was now teaching Mr. Hoppy how to properly throw breadcrumbs. 

“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted. “Damien, every time I look at you, I remember.” 

“I know.” Pain flickered across his face. “I know what you remember. And I’ll spend my 

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life trying to create new memories. Better ones. Memories of me being the father Noaht deserves and the partner you should have had years ago.” 

“People don’t change that much.” 

“They do when they lose everything.” His hand finally made contact, pressing against my back. “When I thought you were gone forever, when I realized I’d thrown away my chance at happiness–it broke something in me. Or maybe it fixed something. I’m not sure anymore.” 

“Damien” 

“You don’t have to answer now.” He stepped back, removing his hand. “Just think about it. After tonight, after Marcus is dealt with, think about whether we could try.” Before I could respond, Noah came running over, breathless and excited. 

“Mama, Daddy, you have to meet the duck king!” He grabbed both our hands, pulling us toward the pond. “He’s very important and he wants to talk to you!” 

We let him drag us forward, our hands still linked through his small fingers. 

And for a moment, surrounded by quacking ducks and Noah’s laughter and Damien’s warm presence beside me, I let myself imagine it. A future where we were actually a family. Where forgiveness was possible and second chances worked out. 

Then my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. 

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